Am I supposed to feel ashamed that I love The Hills?
My boyfriend has likened watching the MTV “reality” show to cutting the corner off the bottom of a full garbage bag and drinking the juice.
Fine. I get the criticisms, but they are so obvious and really so … pedestrian.
Through my many devoted years of viewership, I have had more than one deep, philosophical, critical discussion about this show which some argue is the polar opposite of … well, deep, philosophical, and critical.
Perhaps the contradictions and the untenable reality/total bullshit nature of the show, coupled with the publicity stunts (see: Speidi) and actual bullshit nature of real Hollywood, is what makes the show so confusing, and so delectable to the inquiring mind.
I know the show is “fake” and yet, when I see the social interaction between these droids of materialism, I am transported back to my own youth among very similar characters, and all I can think is: this must be real, because no one can pretend to be that dumb.
And if they are truly “acting,” then this ensemble is the greatest set of actors in the history of time and all deserve multiple Emmys.
I am inspired to write this because I, myself, was in the presence of a form of deity on Saturday night.
As I was approaching a friend’s birthday party at the Velvet Margarita in Hollywood, we were circling the block and I felt very outside of loss angels. Funny because I was smack dab in the middle of tinsel town, and yet, the people, the vibe, and the overall environs were very very foreign. And I’ve lived here for twenty-some-odd years.
